


99 Problems

by OctoberWitch



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Bloodplay, Cassidy would definitely beat the shit outta me for that, M/M, homemade surgery, very thin plot here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 02:12:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7958311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctoberWitch/pseuds/OctoberWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If you're having girl problems <br/>I feel bad for you, son.<br/>I've got 99 problems<br/>And a bitch ain't one."</p>
            </blockquote>





	99 Problems

**Author's Note:**

> This is an english version of a previous french fic, french being my native language: so if you find your eyeballs bleeding at the end of the fic, feel free to tell me all about it in the comments. 
> 
> Also some bloodplay, swearing and plain rudeness coming from our boys here -the usual, right?
> 
> (and I don't think I nailed Cassidy's slang so if there is a kind irish soul around here who is willing to help...)

5.43 AM -Annville, Texas. 

 

The sun is ready to rise.

 

An oily, nasty and scorching sun you would only find in good old America.

 

But for now this ball of fire is still sleeping behind the horizon, an already wavering line all riled up for the hot day coming.

 

Unless the tremors has something to do with the hoarse cries of one Jesse Custer, currently preacher and part-time reformed bastard. Writhing on the church road's dirt, his black uniform soiled by blood and dust, he was methodically cursing all the prophets, the saints, the angels, the archangels and the fucking Dude.  
Cassidy, currently vampire (an Irish one, mind you), alcoholic, junkie and wanker (not always in that order) was really impressed by the preacher's memory of Christian pantheon.   
But even a dumbass like him knew it was no time for praise.

 

\- For fuck's sake, Cass! Do something!

 

Jesse managed to lift himself painfully, grabbing his pathetic excuse for a shirt (the one with the moths holes adorning the collar) and dragging him down, offering a splendid view upon his wrathful face. 

 

\- And don't you dare giving me the "I'm a 119 years old vampire Jesse, so you'll understand I'm tragically vulnerable to the sight of blood" talk, because if you do I'm gonna feed you the entire Twilight saga until you shit glitters!

 

A steady hand resting on the preacher's fist (old habits die hard and all that) Cassidy replied evenly -he already had two and a half cow this week, he's full as a Christmas pudding, but thanks a lot anyway, mate.  
The preacher tightens his fist and Cass was pretty sure he died all over again when he whispered hotly in the shell of his ear:

 

\- THEN MOVE YOUR SCRAWNY IRISH ASS AND STOP THE BLEEDING, MORON! 

\- Alright! alriiiiiight -no need to climb on your high buffalos, cow-boy!

 

Jesse Custer, probably stunned by his atrocious comeback, fainted.

 

Cassidy swore many times -in gaelic, in english, in american and in esperanto (desperate situations calls for desperate slang) before putting his lanky hands on the preacher's chest.   
When you find yourself being torn apart on a daily basis -and you often have the utter privilege to admire your very own entrails in the process- you tend to become quite the master in human anatomy. Cassidy was certain all the surgeons in the world would be better if vamped up -their patients, however, would surely disagree but the Irishman always dropped his train of thoughts along the way, by laziness or lack of magnesium perhaps. He knew the bullet went through the upper lung, the right one, allowing a flow of blood to dribble merrily down the preacher's chest -and another one to viciously fill said lung to the brim with thick hemoglobin.  
And he wasn't going to save anyone by staying there, looking useless, wondering if this would make a good math problem to solve -considering the amount of blood in a human male, the average size of the lung and the breathing rhythm of the poor leaking bastard, how long would it take to completely drain the preacher?  
Or something along this line...

Fortunately, the sight of your best (and only) friend bleeding to death combined with a motherfucking impeding sunrise could easily boost anyone I.Q.

 

Searching his surroundings -a dead tree, sand and dust, the ever messed up panel and more sand- Cassidy was looking for something long and hollow, preferably small and quite rigid, just like a...there! Stuck under the wooden panel was a dirty plastic cup with a straw in the middle.   
The Irish scrambled quickly toward the gross piece of trash, taking the ants as well as the straw (Jesse needed some more company, anyway) and thanking all the shitheads who never learned to spell "bin". He returns to Jesse, victorious, and threw a leg over him to sit on his hips.   
Then, he slapped tenderly Jesse's unshaven cheeks.

 

\- Oy! Padre! I know you're still in there so here's the deal: you an' me are gonna be takin' a bit of nursing time, alright? You just stay put for your uncle Cass and he will save your pretty ass -what do you think o' tha', boyo? So! First thing's first, let's get you outta this damn costume o' yours -seriously, I don't know how you can walk around wrapped like a gothic burrito- you've stolen the AC an' put it under here or what?

 

Cassidy babbled on and on - it was easier than just look at the preacher's naked chest being slowly revealed in all its tanned blood-covered glory. He pulled the shirt's bottom out of the black jeans and then managed to bare Jesse's right side entirely. 

 

\- And this is were the real fun begins, padre...muttered the Irishman, securing the straw between his teeth.

 

He was thinking about digging his way in the wound with his fingers, catching the bullet and getting it done like it was no big deal but the preacher was not really thrilled by his caveman style treatment -the little chump was a lot less fainted than he had thought he was.   
Just when Cassidy's digits were entering the wound, the rodeo begins.   
As hot as can be a ride on Jesse Fucking Custer, Cass didn't have time to enjoy it now: he weighted the preacher down, one big hand bruising his waist as the other was searching to extract the bullet. Jesse was growling -an honest to God beast's grunt, the I'll-wait-for-your-delicious-asscheeks-in-the-shadows-of-a-bush kind of beast- and Cassidy was so done with this bloody piece of shite who keeps slipping out of reach!  
It wasn't going to work so, plan B -B standing for Bastard in this one, if the new low he was about to reach meant anything.

 

Cassidy retrieve his cruel fingers, sat all comfy upon the preacher's crotch and rode him with obvious whorish skills.   
The reward was immediate: Jesse stopped complaining and trashing, fiercely focused on the hot friction -heavy-lidded eyes and taut neck, trying his best to keep his filthy nurse on top of him. Cassidy took his time, letting a satisfied grin stretch his lips before getting shit done. He managed to remove the bullet, throwing it harshly against the panel.

 

\- Motherfucking piece o' shite! Well, we're almost through padre...I'm just gonna get me some nice cocktail here and you'll be as good as new!

\- A...a what!? Fuck, Cass...what're you're even doin' with a straw...you're better be makin' a fucking bandage or I- uuurgh!

\- Schhhhhh! Schhh-schhh-schhhhhhh....(he had just stick 4 inches of straw into the bleeding lung) no worry here padre, I know what I'm doing! If we patch you up now you're gonna drown in your own blood -that's a shitty way to go, innit? So lay down an' think o' the Lord, 'right?

 

Cassidy lean over the preacher, skinny ass still firmly planted on his crotch, and began to messily siphon out the blood.  
There was some shenanigans with the blood being all thick and almost completely dry along the wound's edges, but eventually the red syrup warmed up to him and ran down his throat like a nice cup o' tea. Jesse, despite his twitching hips, has decided it was for the best if he fainted -again.   
When Cassidy felt an ease coming back in the preacher's breath, he removed the straw with quite an awful slurping sound and took a closer look to the wound: slightly gaping now (he was always a rough fella to begin with, and besides he's usually the one to make the holes, not seal them) but the bleeding had slow down and Jesse's chest was flatter, more even. He touched his muscles, gently probing and relieved when he didn't find any swollen area or weird hard-as-stones skin. 

 

\- And now it's patching time! You're with me, padre?

\- Wha....what ..re....Cass? no...more...

\- More? You want more o' this, padre? You're a lot kinkier than I thought, huh! SM was wasted on me, you see, a tad to tuned on the painful side of life on a daily basis, yeah? But if you want we can spice a night or two, just to try it...but for that you have to stay in the game, boyo, so don't die on me, 'kay?

\- What you're even...Cass? ........Cass!

 

Ignoring the preacher's concerns, the vampire latched his lips around the aching wound.  
Then he gathered some spit just to let it drip down in a magnificent and translucent trickle -that dirty monster from Alien would have been so proud of him. He could heard Jesse's horrified moans above his bed-head, along with a great amount of disgust. Cassidy did his best to appear offended and continue to drool upon the poor injured lung (after all that little gobshite couldn't see jacks about what was happenin' on his tits unless he was willing to snap his pretty neck and Cass' was saving his life right now so he deserves some respect, shite). He prove his point by letting go of the wound to throw back a "I could very well had take me cock some fresh air and just piss on you, so shuddup will ya! Jaysus, the cheek of ya!"  
His own cockiness worked wonders to hide his tight pants and ragged breaths.  
He thought it must feel like a really weird and misplaced cunnilingus to Jesse, but the healing process wouldn't took off if the spit wasn't deep enough into the wound...  
And Cassidy must be one hell of a nurse, because he could already feel the skin shivering under his tongue, all of Jesse's cells speeding up and working damn hard to repare the damage. If the padre was still white as a milk's man shite under his texan tan, he was no longer in danger of meeting his Lord too soon. Cassidy let Mother Nature take over and, in the meantime, cleaned his mess with the same unholy tongue -he never had any tissue on him anyway. So he circled the dirty expanse of chest, sucking a dark nipple and thouroughly licking any dried patch of blood, going even lower to catch any splatters and red dots he could find -until he find his filthy mouth stopped by the black jeans. Then he gets higher, swallowing some clotted blood on his journey to Jesse's collarbones. 

 

The preacher was dead to the world for now and Cassidy thought (bitterly) that his best mate will never know the extent of his desire -he craved Jesse like he had scarcely craved anything or anyone since that's all he has to do with his everlasting shitty time on earth (apart from surviving and creating lethal coktails, of course).   
Already nostalgic of what he had yet to lose, he smelled Jesse's scent, just below his chin, in this tiny space where everything is warm, where his dark beard don't know when to begin and when to fade -he even dared plant a kiss on Jesse's Adam's apple. 

 

The sun spilled over the horizon with fierce punctuality, setting everything on fire at 6.07 AM sharp. 

 

Cassidy behold this yellow fucker with indifference, mindful to let go of Jesse -nobody like to wake up with a crispy corpse on their chest, now, don't they?

 

A powerful "HOLYMOTHEROFGOD" prevented his movement as Jesse turned him around violently, making him literally bite the dust.  
Then goes on an epic battle between the preacher and the overlong limbs of the Irishman -he was gathering endlessly some errand arm or leg, tucking it under his body, trying desperately to protect Cassidy with his sturdy 5'10".  
The vampire was too horned up by his padre ministrations to be any help at all -he lost at least two toes, a thick patch of hair and some left asscheek.  
Nothing important, then.

 

\- You're quite a heavy fella for such short bloke, padre...ow! not all short, huh?

\- Cass...quit it, will you?

\- What for, padre? And explain me how to stay put when you have a lovely preacher fighting the sun itself for your old vampire ass, huh?

\- Yeah, well...we ain't going to lie here all day so...keep still one second, okay?

\- Yes, sir...

 

Cassidy settled himself under Jesse, trying his very best to be all small and good and not tease the shit out of the preacher when he spotted the hard bulge poking his thigh.   
Jesse managed to reach his phone (front pocket, of course, the nasty tiny ones waiting for you to put something in them just to shrink right after and thus trapping your cherished items forever) after many attempts -and one unforgettable move where Cass did try to "help him" when in fact he was just reaching for his cock, the wanker. Jesse lifted his arm in protest and it all result in Cassidy's left side sizzling like a plate of BBQ ribs. The vampire swore he heard Jesse muttering something like "serves you right!" but decided to let it go for now -they had so much better things to do while waiting for an hypothetical rescue. 

 

\- Who you're gonna call anyway? Don't used to getting many admirers, me...

\- Someone who won't shoot you on sight, if that's what bothering you. 

\- I guess we're not talking about your girlfriend, then, are we?

\- EX!

\- I guess we're not talking about your EX-girlfriend, then, who is it? Do I know her?

\- Why assuming it's a woman, huh?

\- Come on! You lure them in like a 70% first sale day, padre! Of course it's a pretty lass...is it? nah...it's not your little awestruck harpsichord maiden, is it?

\- My...who?!

\- You know very well which one, Romeo! Miss I'm-checking-out-the- preacher's-lips-during-church-time-but-I-never-hear-what-he's-saying!

\- Emily loves my sermon! She's the only one...

\- See, padre? You figured it out straight away! Now if you could figure out she wants to fuck you 99% of the time, it will put a real balm on me old soul...could you do that for me, padre?

\- You're a real pain in the ass, sometimes...

\- And still you insisted in saving it, padre...

 

Jesse surrendered with a rough chuckle, letting his forehead drop in the dust, shading Cassidy's head with his wild hair. That damn haircut could be of some use, after all.   
The vampire was in heaven -ah, ah- and can't seems to stop fidgeting under the preacher's hot body. 

 

\- Cass?

\- Ay, padre?

\- Could you stop that? Otherwise Emily might be tempted to just let us rot here until the night comes -especially if she sees the...state we're in.

-...or she'll hire us for some private show? She looks like she really needs to loosen up, you know, blow off some steam or something, she's always so tense and moody -must be the kids, I tell ya, little devils must be exhausting to deal with 24/7...a good old porny break, that's what she need, I'm sure!

\- Shit, Cass...we're really going down there...

\- Now wait! Waitwaitwaitwaitwait -seriously, padre, picture it, would ya? You, all holy and righteous in your black uniform; me, the mysterious one with me shades on, the preacher and the vampire, the man of god and the monster facing each other in a hot and messy struggle!

\- Cass...I said quit it already.

\- But think of all the cash we would be makin'!

\- Still not into it!

\- ...and if we're going there inside the church? I dare you to tell now you haven't even once thought of defiling that immaculate altar o' yours!

\- ...70/30, given that I just saved your sorry ass and it's my church... 

 

...the end?


End file.
